Unhinged
by seven years
Summary: When Draco and Ginny witness Ron and Pansy in a compromising position, they form a temporary alliance to break the pair apart at all costs. But soon, Ginny realizes for herself how easy it is to fall in love with the wrong person.
1. How To Disappear Completely

**Author's note: **I know that it is against my better judgment that I start this new fic. But I've been toying with the idea for months now and…I figure that I might as well give it a shot. Please read and review.

**Disclaimer: **Just like everyone else in fandom, I do not own Harry Potter. That honor goes to J.K. Rowling. Please don't sue me for this.

* * *

**Unhinged: Chapter 1**

_In a little while_

_I'll be gone_

_The moment's already passed_

_Yeah, it's gone_

_And I'm not here_

_This isn't happening._

_How to Disappear Completely, Radiohead_

* * *

The very beginning of it all was, of course, Ron's mysterious disappearance.

As most beginnings go, this one started out as a day of no real importance. School is school, and 6th year is 6th year: a drone. I attended my classes; I made a dire attempt to look half-awake through most of them, and managed to not land myself in detention. In general, the day was a good one. What you should also understand about Hogwarts and its inhabitants is that dinner is The Highlight. Other than the fact that by dinnertime, everyone is hungry enough to eat human flesh if need be, it's the height of sociable-ness. Breakfast is too early, and lunch comes with the promise of too many classes afterwards. But dinner is perfect—you can make plans for a game of chess afterwards if you like, or if you're like Hermione Granger, you have time to knit and/or read and generally save house-elf kind. (Or at least make a good attempt to. One must admit that her intent is admirable, if a bit foolhardy.) Anyway you look at it, dinner is a good time. It is also a time that my brother-big, gangly, irritating boy that he is, rarely ever misses dinner. And yes, you guessed it—he missed it that night.

"Where's Ron?" Harry was the first to notice the absence of his best friend. Hermione started, and looked up from the book spread over her lap.

"What?"

"Ron," Harry repeated, looking around the Gryffindor table. "I've just remembered that he's not here." Hermione's face wrinkled into a gentle frown, but she quickly grew distracted.

"Oh, well," she said, her eyes already back to her text. "I'm sure there's a good reason. Wouldn't worry."

"Hermione," Harry said gently, looking lovingly and exasperatedly at his girlfriend. I giggled. "Put the book down."

"Harry, I've got to read this! I could very well be on my way to solving one of the greatest mysteries of life—do you really want to interrupt this?"

But Harry's hands were firm, and they promptly snatched the book out of her hand.

"Yes," he said. "I do want to interrupt. I barely see you all day, and I'd like to talk to you."

"Fine," Hermione muttered, but only half-heartedly. After all, any other girl would have gladly had a conversation with Harry than read a big musty book. I turned my head in the other direction, scooting closer to my friend Colin. Living with a hundred brothers (well, alright, only six), thank God, had allowed me to appreciate and respect privacy in all its glory.

"Oy, Ginny, what foo thik of this wod?" Colin said through a mouthful of food. Colin shoved a black and white photo in front of me. A much smaller version of Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy was there. The two of them seemed quite occupied with each other.

"Er," I mumbled awkwardly. "Colin? It's a little…"

"Yea, I know." Colin swallowed. "The quality is a bit blurry, and I do wish I could have gotten a head-on angle, but really, it was the best I could get for a galleon," he finished sheepishly.

"Colin!" I said, shocked. "You paid Malfoy and Parkinson a galleon so you could take a picture of them _snogging_?" I hoped I would never have to say that sentence again. Colin continued to look completely oblivious to how absurd the thought was.

"Yes?"

"I don't know. It seems a waste," I said gently. "And since when have they been discreet? I'm sure it wouldn't have been hard to get a candid shot of them going at it, and you would have saved yourself a galleon." Colin shook his head.

"You don't know what you're saying, Gin—a candid won't do. And they didn't seem taken to the idea of being photographed so I had no other choice. You know I'm bent on publishing this issue of Hogwarts Monthly. I've _got_ to get it done."

"Colin," I said in what I hoped was a reasonable tone. "It's not even December yet. I'm sure the Valentine's issue doesn't need to take priority at the moment." But Colin's lips were set in a stubborn line.

"Don't you understand, Ginny? The Valentine's issue is our most popular one—everyone in the school reads it. It's got to be perfect. My reputation depends on it," he said melodramatically.

I sighed resignedly. "All I'm saying is that you shouldn't count your eggs before they've hatched," I advised, risking t he chance of sounding corny.

Colin retorted with a blank stare. I pressed further.

"Who knows who will be in love with whom by the time Valentine's Day comes around? If you take the pictures and write the articles now, only to find out that a couple has broken up, you'll have to do the work all over again."

To this, Colin laughed. I felt a jab of annoyance at the fact that he would take my heart-felt advice so lightly.

"Don't worry about that, Ginny. Do you really think that Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson would suddenly call it quits after all these years? Everyone knows they're joined at the hip. It won't happen. Maybe when pigs fly, though."

I had to agree to that. Ever since I had entered this school, the two of them had been inseparable. I figured that some people really were destined to be together.

"Just don't get yourself into trouble, then," I said gruffly. Colin waved me away before proceeding to show me a flood of other new photos he had taken. Before I knew it, dinnertime was over, and the Great Hall was beginning to empty. I realized with a jolt that Ron had still not arrived. I was beginning to grow slightly worried—I didn't know then just how worried I _should_ have been.

With a mostly irritated sigh, I left the table and the hall to return to the common room. On the way to the tower, I heard two heated, yelling voices. Rounding the corner, I saw the lovely couple Colin and I had only just been talking about. Instinctively, I thought of turning around—but there was no other way to get to Gryffindor Tower. Tentatively, I continued forth, until it was too late for me to hide. Pansy's usually pale face was flushed dark. If she did see me, she made no indication of it.

"Shut up, Malfoy," she was saying as I came to a complete stop behind them. "And the next time you feel like playing father to me, you can remind yourself to shove off, can't you?"

Draco Malfoy, whose face I could not see, moved forward at an attempt to grab Pansy and whirl her around.

"Don't touch me," she said coldly. "Good night." She snatched her wrist out of his grasp before briskly walking down the long corridor, and then disappearing into the dark.

I stood frozen for as long as Malfoy stood there, his back still turned towards me.

"Care to go away, Weasley?" he said suddenly, his angry voice breaking the silence with a shatter. I jumped. I hadn't been aware that _he_ had been aware.

"Well—I—sorry," I said impulsively. For a moment, I meant it. I hadn't intended to intrude.

"Of course you're not," he said nastily, turning around to face me. Any apologetic feelings disappeared immediately. His cheeks were pale, paler than I'd ever seen them. "But it's just like you Weasleys to tread where they shouldn't."

"I told you, I didn't mean to," I said defensively, feeling my face grow hot at the prospect of an argument with Malfoy. "Stop acting so angry at me. It's not my fault that there's trouble in paradise," I spat.

Malfoy seemed enraged at my words, for a moment. Then, just as quickly, he calmed, as if deciding at the last moment that I was not worth it—a surprisingly sage move from someone so bigoted. With a simple shrug, he said, "It was only a fight. There's no trouble."

"Right," I said, quite disbelievingly. Briefly, I thought of the irony of what I had previously said to Colin, earlier that night. "'Bye, then."

With that clumsy goodbye (and really, why had I even uttered a farewell?) I dodged past him and followed the route to the security of Gryffindor Tower.

* * *

"Is Ron still not back?" I asked with slumped shoulders as I climbed through the portrait hole. Harry looked up.

"He's not with you?"

"Does it look like he's with me?" I snapped, shooting Harry a look of annoyance.

"I—I suppose not."

"He's not, anyway, " I said, softening my tone. "Not that I'm going to worry any more about that boy. If he's decided to disappear, that's good for us. One less brother to kill off later on." I grinned. Harry smiled back, and when I felt that he was not going to begrudge me for being testy with him, I said goodnight and decided to go to bed early.

By the next morning, however, I could not pretend that I didn't care about my brother's missing status.

"He's still not here, Ginny," Harry said automatically as I seated myself at breakfast.

"Bloody nuisance," I muttered. "What is he, five? Must I be forced to keep track of him? Keep him on a leash, maybe? The least he could do is owl us to tell us he's okay." When in fact, that was just a way—my way-of saying, 'I hope he's okay.' Ron was never one to care too much for his wellbeing. It was a trait he, Harry and Hermione shared.

"Well, he's not five years old," reminded Hermione gently. "I'm sure he's alright."

"I'm not worried," I said, before shoving a mouthful of toast in my face. Hermione shrugged. I would just skip breakfast then, to find that brother of mine and promptly ask him if he'd any idea how worried his friends had been.

"Of course you're not. That's why you're not going to go off looking for him."

"Hermione!" I complained. "He hasn't been to his dorm all night—that means he's been sleeping somewhere else—and who knows where that might be!"

"Ginny's right," Harry interjected. "I'm going." Once again, it seemed that Harry's tendency towards heroism was taking over. When I stood up to join him, Hermione followed us with a disgruntled cluck of her tongue.

"Honestly," she said. "Paranoid—that's what you lot are."

"Right," Harry said, turning round to face us. "I figure we should split up."

"We shouldn't—and anyway, let's just go back?" Hermione said. I glared at her.

"Of course we should split up—we need to find Ron right away so that I can finish eating without disturbance. I'll take the lower level," I prompted.

"Hermione and I will take the upper floors, then," Harry said. "Meet back here in an hour, whether or not he turns up."

Nodding, I headed for the stairs that lead to the dungeons. Soon enough, the damp, mossy smell of the area pervaded my senses, and almost on instinct, I grew slightly more wary. My footsteps, which had previously been clunking along ignorantly, grew softer.

"Hello?" I peeked my head into an empty classroom. "Ron!" I called. "Ronald Weasley! Prat!"

Every room I encountered I peered into, hoping that my brother would be there. But his whereabouts remained unknown. As the number of classrooms lessened, I grew slightly more worried, now with a note of slight panic. This wasn't like my brother at all—first to skip dinner, then to not return to the tower all night. Skipping two entire meals was unheard of, especially if he was alone, especially if he was without Harry and Hermione. I walked faster.

But the very last classroom in the lower level proved to be empty.

"Ron, you great bloody fool," I whispered to myself, whirling around to head back down the way I had come—

When the wall moved. My body tensed and stilled, hearing, watching for movement. I watched the wall, the one to the left of me, that I could have sworn had creaked. Upon stepping closer, I realized with wide eyes that it had indeed moved—I now noticed a small, nearly inconspicuous doorway. It had been perfectly concealed along the wall's stone façade, but the crack was definitely there—if I could get my fingers wrapped around it, it would open.

My curiosity eventually won the argument against reason. I grabbed the small raise in the surface, and pulled. It opened quite easily, and a dim orange glow emanated from the depths. I looked below and saw a flight of rickety-looking stairs. It wasn't really odd, you know. After a fair few years at Hogwarts castle, you begin to realize that secret rooms are as normal as a sunrise. As I descended, against my better judgment, my only defense was this: stairs were made for climbing, weren't they?

Although, now that I think of it—if I had known what would have been in store for me at the end of those stairs, I'm sure I would not have taken it. Just as if Pandora had known what would be in her box, she would not have opened it. But she did not have the gift of foresight, and neither did I. Therefore I stumbled erratically to my doom.

"Ron?" The voice was not my own. A hand flew to my mouth when I saw a figure emerge from a corner of the room. Naked. I could barely see the outline of her voluptuous figure. Thrown into shock, I watched mutely the vision in front of me.

"Pansy," my brother said. "I think I should go."

"You shouldn't have to do anything you don't want to," Pansy said firmly. "So stay."

"No," Ron insisted, pushing against her lingering hand upon his shoulder. "I'm not used to worrying my friends and sister. I have to go."

"Then you'll at least be gentlemanly enough to call for me, won't you?"

Ron hesitated.

"You know I'll be furious if you don't. Please tell me that those months and months of time spent in the library—fighting-has lead us somewhere."

"Why?" Ron looked pensive. Pansy looked cold and hard.

"Because I don't fuck strangers. You better not be one, Weasley, because I can't very well pretend we didn't just screw each other."

My brother chuckled, then stifled it.

"I'll owl you."

That seemed to suffice for Parkinson. With a grunt, she grabbed her clothes and began roughly putting them back on. Ron waited until she was dressed before moving. When he did, she watched him carefully. He looked self-conscious, avoiding her gaze at all costs. When my brother buttoned up his shirt, I was thrown back into reality. I ducked out of the way and hurried up the stairs quietly, my heart pounding.

My brain, being so unused to these sorts of things, did not even attempt to understand what I had just seen. Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined what was to follow—to me, this was just a piece of surreal-ity. With a slightly confused cry, I leaned back against the wall, my breathing growing labored as I relived the events that had occurred only moments before. Ronald and Pansy, naked. They had…made love? No. Making love was reserved for two people who truly cared for each other. This…this was simply a prank. My brother must have been spelled into doing this—a horrible joke from the Slytherins. I grew cold at the thought.

I reasoned with myself very well—because in the actually tangible world that the rest of us lived in, such a thing as my brother having sex with Pansy was impossible. It was like trying to argue that two and two equaled five. It was never possible, not even if it were the end of the world.

My thoughts stilled, and I did not even flinch as a frozen and invisible hand slipped around my neck. A familiar and angry face appeared before me, distinctive only by his gray eyes.

"_Weasley_," Malfoy growled. "What is it with you and butting into other people's businesses?"

* * *


	2. Denial of the soul

**Author's note: **Thanks to all the reviewers. This is a fast update because I already wrote the first few chapters to this, and it seems that I am much too impatient to wait another few days.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter.

* * *

**Unhinged: Chapter 2**

_To deny one's own experiences is to put a lie into the lips of one's life. It is no less than a denial of the soul. _

- _Oscar Wilde_

* * *

"What have you and your sick friends done to him?" There was only quietude that met me after my shrill cry faded. I took his silence to be a panicked one—that he had been caught, and was looking for an easy way of confession. I stared blankly back at his expression of bewilderment. 

"You think _I_ did this?"

"Who else?" I scoffed.

"I didn't."

"Listen, don't bother lying, Malfoy—"

"_I'm not lying_!" I looked at him, startled into brief silence by how incensed he sounded.

"You think you bloody know so much about what you've just seen, don't you?"

"My eyes don't lie," I said arrogantly.

"Shut _up_, will you?" Malfoy said, his expression still beyond angry. "Believe me when I insist that you've no idea about what's been going on."

"Well, I should think I have _some_ idea—"

"No," he repeated, his voice low and firm. "You don't. Just shut up and go home, Weasley. It'll be the wisest thing you've done today and we both know that we could use a little wisdom around here."

At his biting and unsympathetic words, I clenched my fists-but no retort came from my part. No insults, no demeaning thoughts, no harsh accusations came to mind. I realized that all I wanted to do was think about things on my own for the moment. I turned sharply on my heel and rushed down the hallways and up the stairs. Though the dank smell of the dungeons eventually left me, the images of Ron and Pansy did not.

* * *

Harry was the one to find me as I wandered, quite lost. 

"Gin!" he called. "Where've you been?"

"Sorry," I said breathlessly. He had startled me. "I—I guess I don't know this castle as well as I should. I got a little lost." I hadn't meant to lie to them—in fact, I had planned out how I would break the news of Ron's location to Harry and Hermione. I had even taken the liberty of imagining the look on their faces. But now that the moment had come, the untruth came out flawlessly, without second thought. Inwardly, I flushed at the knowledge that I was such an accomplished liar.

"Any news of Ron, then?"

"Er—no," I said quickly. "Nothing." I averted my gaze as Harry's face crumpled in disappointment.

"We couldn't find him either," he said dejectedly. "Do you expect we should go to a professor?"

"No!" I exclaimed. Perhaps a little too eagerly. But who would ever guess what I knew? Not Harry. Hermione was looking at me curiously now. The girl was far too perceptive for anyone's good.

"Alright then," Harry said tiredly. "I suppose we'll give it a few more hours. If he's not back by lunch…."

"Then we'll definitely tell someone," I assured him. Seemingly satisfied with this idea, the three of us parted, heading to our morning classes.

* * *

Malfoy approached me before long. I wondered dazedly as he pushed me into a secluded corner, if we were going to be meeting more often. One could say that I had been expecting a confrontation from him. I was expecting him to cough up his secrets, to tell me how the Slytherins had managed this great, sick feat. I was fully prepared for an explanation to end all this nonsense. 

"Have you told anyone?" he asked rigidly.

"Of what?" I said cheekily, still affronted with how rude he had been earlier.

"I think you'll excuse me if I say that I'm not in the mood for verbal games," he said as he raised a brow.

"No, I haven't told anyone, " I said bitterly.

"Good girl," he said, and he looked visibly relieved. "Keep it a secret."

"Why? Don't want anyone else to know about your sick joke—""

"For the very last time, this is not a joke," he growled. His eyes were wide and shining with impatience. "If it were, I would not waste my time talking to you." I did not back down.

"Do you expect me to think that my own brother would do something so thoughtless and irrational? You think he'd _willingly_ go near her?" I blinked, and realized that tears were beginning to form in my eyes. Draco shifted uncomfortably, at a loss of what to do with a crying girl. Crying easily was a trait that I had never been too proud of-I didn't mean to cry, nor did I feel like crying, but the tears always come at the slightest strain or stress.

"Yes," he said finally. "Yes, that is what I expect you to believe. Because it's the truth, Weasley, whether you like it or not."

"You're full of it. Mental," I said, wiping my tears and attempting to move past him at the same time. He moved with me, blocking me with his body. "Let me go."

"No. Your presence in the dungeons earlier today means we have something we must talk about—I'm not about to let you run off."

"I've nothing to discuss with the likes of you. Nothing you can say will change what I know I saw."

"Bloody hell, you are a stubborn brat," he began, but I cut him off by pushing against him and finally managing to squeeze past his tall frame.

"Look. Just tell me how you did it—how the others did it. Put things right, Malfoy, because this isn't funny. It may have seemed like it to you, but it's not. It's sick and insulting—and it's crossing the line. That's all we have to discuss." With a slightly rueful expression, I backed away from him.

"Right!" he called out at me, sounding infuriated. "What do I care if my girlfriend has betrayed me for your ass of a brother? Why the _hell_ should I give a damn, Weasley? Ever thought of it that way?"

I ignored his anguished yells and continued to walk. When I heard his footsteps trail me, I picked up my pace. He caught up to me anyway, his hand reaching my shoulder and twirling me around.

"Will you leave me be?" I asked venomously.

"I suppose I'll have to show you the hard way, Weasley," he said and there was a slightly exasperated sigh to his statement. He yanked my arm and began a fast-paced walk towards the dungeons once again.

* * *

"For the last time, Malfoy—let go of my arm!" I screeched. 

"No." He remained adamant to lead me somewhere. It looked likely that this somewhere would be the secret room that I had originally seen Ron in.

A few minutes later, I realized that my guess had been right. Tracing his hand over the surface of the wall, he seemed to recognize a particular spot as the opening of the chameleon door. He pressed gently against it, and the outline of an entrance slowly appeared.

"How…?"

"Later," he said curtly. "And stay silent." Taking my arm once more, he quietly and gently led me down a couple of stairs, so that we were far enough to see who was in the room. As I saw two familiar figures in a not-so familiar embrace, my mind grew dizzy.

"…I suppose Potter had a fit over your temporary disappearance." Pansy's cool voice rose to reach our ears. I made a small groan of disgust. In answer, Malfoy pressed himself against me to remind me that remaining hidden was imperative.

"He was a bit upset, yea." I heard Ron answer. "I don't entirely blame him. I…shouldn't have done what I'd done, Pansy."

"For heaven's sake, Weasley—when are you going to stop acting like what we're doing is a crime?" Ron was quiet. Pansy let him bask in his solitude only for a moment, however.

"Forget it," Pansy said, and she sounded deflated. The pompous Slytherin herself, brought down by my brother. It was unnerving.

"If you're not comfortable with me—with us, then we should end it. Pity it had to be so soon, I admit, but that can't be helped. I asked you if you were sure about this before I let you have me last night. Obviously you weren't."

"Pansy—no," Ron protested strongly. He rose to make his point. "It certainly is not over, whatever we have right now. But can't you feel the least bit sympathetic to the position I am in right now? Can't you understand how utterly wrong I feel? I have never doubted my feelings like this—ever!"

"Oh, because it's simply too easy for me, isn't it? If the knowledge evaded you the first time, I'll remind you again—I'm the cheating whore here, the one who already had a lover boy. I don't particularly feel like whoring around if the other party isn't willing."

"I am willing." I saw Pansy's grim face relax into a small smirk.

"Then kiss me." I closed my eyes. I desperately hoped for a cry of outrage from my brother. I prayed for him to refuse and leave. But none of those things happened. I could only hear the sound of their passion.

"Pansy," Ron moaned quietly.

"Hmm?" She murmured against his lips. I turned away, but found Malfoy's hands turn my face around again.

"I lied. I don't doubt this," said Ron.

* * *

"I'm sorry," I admitted with humility. At least I was woman enough to do so. But I hoped it would be the last time I would have to apologize to Malfoy, since I seemed to be doing it a lot these days. "I'm sorry I thought it was a prank, a farce. But you must under—" I faltered. 'Understand' didn't quite seem like the right word. 

"Don't." I looked up and saw Malfoy staring at the secret door. "I don't need your apologies."

"This is quite a surprise to me," I mumbled. "I just can't believe that Ron would…" I stopped myself. I had to watch what I was saying. Every inch of my body might have felt horror at the idea, but I had to at least make an attempt to keep an open mind. It would be what a good person would do—what a good sister would do—not jump to conclusions.

"Well. It's just—I don't know." I stumbled for words that I could not think of. Draco did not act empathic to my frazzled state of being. Instead, he continued to look frustrated and hurried.

"The only question worth answering is how badly you want them separated," he said frankly. My eyes fluttered.

"What?"

"Do you want them broken apart or not? Ended? Have things back to normal?" he demanded. Obviously, he was not one to beat around the bush.

"It's not really any of our business, is it?" I said, trying to find the voice of reason when it had just about deserted me. It was a weak attempt at being noble. "It's Ron's choice who to love." Draco let out an animalistic sound that made me jump back.

"Bloody hell," he muttered darkly. "Stop acting so bloody…_Gryffindor_. I know it makes you want to launch yourself at him for being so ridiculously foolish. And it's not love, what they have. Lust, maybe."

"It's merely unconventional, that's all, really—" I said feebly, but I knew he was winning. He knew it too.

"Actually, it's more than unconventional—it's threatening. You wonder if it has to be this way at all. You wonder if you can't do something to prevent it, so that you can have your brother back, and I can have my Pansy and all four of us can go back to our respective sides. Both of us are the type of people that enjoy having things the way they were. Isn't that what you want?"

"I—I can't do that," I stuttered. "I can't do what you're asking. To intentionally hope for his relationship with Pansy to go awry? I could never do that to my brother."

"You're not doing him any wrong," Malfoy said coaxingly, changing his tactics in the blink of an eye. He rested a hand on my shoulder and appeared to be sympathetic to my warring emotions. "The only thing you're doing is good—unless you're ready to call him and Pansy good. I'm not about to let the two of them ruin the nice house relations we had going. Besides, I'm not asking you to make it go 'awry' as you put it. Only give it a push in the right direction."

"But—"

"It's for the greater good. They're being selfish."

"I—"

My face fell into a serious frown as I thought over what Malfoy had just said. Oh—why was he so convincing? In the very corner of my mind I wondered if Malfoy knew hypnosis, because I suddenly forgot why I shouldn't like his idea.

"Okay."

Draco's taut face stretched into a smile. It was not a nice smile, nor was it a particularly malicious one. It was simply determined. Very determined.

"Good girl," he said softly, as if I were a pet or play thing who had given the right answer to a call. Shivering, from both the cold and Malfoy, I stepped away and slowly made my way to my dormitory.

And that single sign of resignation—the tiny, miniscule, two-syllable word was all it took to start a chain of events that were unrivaled by anything I had ever experienced.

* * *


	3. Sensible selfishness

**Author's note:** Much gratitude goes to the reviewers. In other news, I'm neglecting to do my homework (against all logic and reason) and am taking the time to post this instead. I should feel guilty. Maybe later.

**Disclaimer:** I obviously don't own the Harry Potter universe.

* * *

**Unhinged: Chapter 3**

_All sensible people are selfish._

_- Ralph Waldo Emerson_

_

* * *

_

Upon returning to the common room, I found myself met with three identical stares.

"Ginny!"

It was my brother who turned and rose. I could hardly stand to look at my brother as he greeted me with a wide, face-splitting grin. It was like he had no shame at all. It was like he didn't feel dirty for touching Pansy. My cheeks were slightly red with the knowledge that I had seen him being intimate with another girl.

"Hullo," I replied grudgingly and without much enthusiasm. Ron shrank into his chair and said no more—I hoped he could sense that I knew something, but knowing him, he did not sense anything of the sort. He would probably brush it off as a bad day.

"We found him," Harry offered lamely as I walked past. I did not laugh or smile or show any signs of amusement. I nodded and shrugged in the same motion. Harry and Hermione (and even Ron) knew that the atmosphere of the room was now successfully ruined. I was not so great a liar that I could completely pretend that there was nothing bothering me. Thankfully, none of them found courage or reason to ask what the hell I was so buggered about. Instead, they allowed me to slink away to the confines of my dormitory—which, in fact, was not so solitary anyway. My oh-so considerate dorm mate had decided to invite a few of her Gryffindor friends along—among them, Lavender and Parvati. Their cacophonous laughter echoed well throughout the tower.

"Oh, hello, Ginny—want to join us for a game of cards?" Lavender called out jubilantly. I politely declined (as politely as I could with clenched teeth, anyway) and snuggled myself into my warm bed. I finally realized how exhausted I truly was.

The drawback of going to sleep, of course, was the fact that I would not fall asleep for hours. I knew myself well enough to realize that trying to persuade my mind to shut up was useless. I knew I would obsess over the day's fiasco nevertheless. I knew I would lay awake and wonder how I had missed all the signs. To this point, to this moment, I had not known anything about Ron and his growing friendship-turned-love for the Slytherin girl—and for this, I felt the most shame. Ron, who I had always read like an open book. Ron, my own sibling.

I didn't know which was worse—the fact that I had remained ignorant to the entire thing or the fact that he felt he could not tell me about it. I felt that if he had confided in me about Pansy, I would have been more understanding. I was sure of it, then. I was sure that I would have been disappointed, too—confused, most definitely—but there would have been plenty of me that wanted to help him. Plenty of me that wanted to try and feel what he was feeling. It might have been different if he hadn't resorted to sneaking around. Regret soared through every inch of me.

However, that regret was useless. Now my word was given to someone else. My promise was given to Draco Malfoy, no less. A promise to help him blatantly disregard the feelings of my brother and coldly crush the burgeoning fling with Pansy Parkinson, so that the rest of us could continue living in utter normalcy. No—when I put it that way, it certainly did not sound fair. But I never said I was unselfish. And a very large side of me truly believed that it would be for the greater good, as Malfoy had said.

In the end, I decided that it was a pity—Ron had ached to keep a secret for nothing. Not only was it a not-so-secret, but if Malfoy and I got our way, he and Pansy would be as good as strangers soon enough. He would get over her. He would forget her.

It was all I could do to hope. Shamefully.

* * *

I woke up extra early the next morning. I could not fall back asleep, so I showered, got dressed and silently headed out of the portrait hole. A bit of fresh air could do me no harm. Unfortunately, Malfoy seemed to be thinking along the same lines.

"Funny meeting you like this," he said as soon as he saw me, when in actuality it was not droll at all. He fell into my stride and turned his head to look at me. He noticed my slightly tangled hair and the darker areas of skin under my eyes.

"Tired?" he asked conversationally. It wasn't like him.

"What is it, Malfoy?"

"What?"

"You're being nice."

"I just supposed that since we're accomplices now, I might as well lay off the insults until a later time."

"How kind of you," I stated sardonically. At the same time I inwardly shuddered at the word 'accomplices.' "But please, there's no need for that. A kinder version of you would be disturbing and I'm not sure how well I'd adjust."

"I think I've got it figured out, anyway," Malfoy said abruptly.

"What?"

"Why Pansy's been…" He didn't finish his sentence. Instead he resorted to crude hand gestures.

"Whoring around?" I offered with a smirk. Malfoy did not look entirely amused. I supposed that I should not try my hand at humor now, especially not so early in the morn. But I had decided that I would handle this as professionally as I could. This way, my feelings would not tumble into the way of our plans and possibly ruin everything—and Ron would never have to know what I'd been up to. Years afterwards, he would think of Pansy and barely remember the brat of a girl. It was a perfect idea because everybody won in the end.

"As you very well know, she's been a bit brassed off at me lately." Malfoy's dignified voice faded back into my train of thought. He ran a hand through his pale hair, looking thoughtful.

"I suppose it's because I haven't been paying her much attention. These…lapses in relationships happen, though, right?"

"Er—are you asking me?" I asked. Malfoy's eyes rolled towards the ceiling.

"Yes. Even you must have had _some_ boyfriends."

"I have," I replied acidly. "And yes, I suppose lapses do happen, although more often than not, these 'lapses' simply end up in a nasty break up."

"Don't say that."

"I'm just putting things in perspective for you."

"Well you don't need to, alright, Weasley?" He looked like he was on the verge of being angry. It was an expression I was quickly becoming used to. "If there is anyone at Hogwarts who has things in perspective, it's me." As a reply, I simply let out a small snort of disbelief.

"Anyway, I should think that if I show—er—affection for her again, things will straighten out," he said.

"You honestly think it'll be that easy?"

Malfoy looked surprised at me.

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"I don't know—maybe because your girl seems rather attached to Ron at the moment?"

"Don't tell me that you think she would choose him over me," Draco scoffed, as if the very idea were laughable. And it was, in a way. At least I hoped so. Whereas Malfoy had an elegant way about him, not to mention confidence, my brother was incurably clumsy. Malfoy had a reasonable sum of money (Who am I kidding? He probably bathed in galleons) and a name Pansy's family would approve of. My unfortunate brother had neither of those. And lastly, while Malfoy's pale but striking features made him nearly handsome, my brother was only a mass of freckles. Cute, at best, although I suspect I may have been a little biased on my opinion of him. Ron's chances were slim. If anyone had told me, 'Pansy Parkinson likes Ron Weasley,' I would have had a good laugh over it. But truth is stranger than fiction. I am continuing to learn how true this is day by day.

"So if that's the case, I don't see why I need to be a part in any of this," I said reasonably. After all, a very Slytherin side of me hoped I would only have to sit back and wait for Draco to persuade Pansy back.

"Don't try to weasel out of it," Malfoy said with a condescending glance down towards me. I ignored his choice of words. "I'm letting you in on it because I realize now that it happens to concern you. I'll not do all the work." Right. He was just being lazy, then. He probably wanted someone that he could order around mercilessly. Lucky me, to fill that position.

"Fine," I said snippily. The sun was barely up and I was already arguing with Draco Stupid Malfoy. The next few days did not look too bright. It was regretfully that I said these next words.

"I'll aid you in whatever way I can. I'll just be glad when this entire farce is over, and I can go back to pretending the lot of you don't exist."

"Couldn't agree with you more, Ginny," Draco said, looking distractedly out the wall-length windows in front of us. "Couldn't agree with you more."

* * *

The plan came together quickly and roughly. Well, technically, I suppose it wasn't a plan at all. Just an impulsive idea, something even a simpleton could have come up with. I didn't even have much to do with it. I simply stood nearby, pretending to argue with Malfoy. Our loud voices carried sufficiently and Parkinson was successfully lured.

"Pansy," Malfoy greeted as soon as she came into close distance. He looked pleasantly and believably surprised to see her. It turned out that I was not the only good liar around Hogwarts. "Haven't seen you around in a while. What have you been up to?" Pansy, of course, did not understand the true meaning of his words. She shrugged with ease.

"Had an extra credit Transfiguration project to finish," she said without fluttering an eyelash. "And you?"

"Nothing really. You know how it is. Same old everyday events. Been arguing with the Weasel," he said simply. He did not afford me a single glance. "I've missed you," he said quietly, before reaching out and crushing the girl in his embrace. My eyes inadvertently widened as his head bent low to kiss her. Pansy did not push him away and Draco took this as a sign to continue eagerly. Apparently, it didn't matter who she loved at the moment—kisses would always be gladly received. I blushed as I watched the rather passionate moment, and turned away. My stomach felt slightly upset, but I reminded myself that this was a far better sight than Pansy and my brother going at it. Much better, in fact. I had a lot to be thankful for.

It wasn't until Draco gave a slight cough that I remembered my role.

"Gee, Malfoy," I said, trying my best to sound reluctantly shocked. "I guess you're right. You _are_ in love with Pansy Parkinson." They broke apart and I found two pairs of eyes looking at me.

"Love?" Pansy repeated, and eyebrow cocked. Draco moved his shoulders in a shrug. Apparently the subject of undying adoration hadn't been a popular discussion subject between them.

"She thought I didn't love you," Draco said with a little laugh. "The little brat refused to believe me, no matter what I'd said. Proved her wrong, didn't I?"

"Oh."

"Well? What have you got to say?" Draco looked expectant. Pansy bit her lip, but the expression that next came to her face was not that of glee. It was anger.

"So that was all it was?" she asked him. "You've snogged me to prove to _her _that you cared for me?"

Draco looked speechless for a moment—he hadn't quite expected this kind of reaction, being the buffoon that he was.

"Of course that wasn't it," Draco hurried to say. He sounded too desperate to be truthful. "I told you—I've missed you, that's all—"

"No," Pansy said coldly. "You missed having someone handy to snog whenever the hell you felt like it. I'd say that getting arse and loving someone are a little bit different. But I agree that you _have_ proven something here. You're damned good at using people when convenient—always were, weren't you?"

"What—"

Before Draco could get another word out, Pansy coldly turned away and strutted towards the castle. Draco stared helplessly after her, his lips still parted to form the apologetic words that had never had a chance to be spoken.

"Shut up," Malfoy spat at me after he had stopped gaping. I shot him a scowl.

"I haven't said anything!"

"I can tell what you're thinking," he muttered brutishly.

"Then I'll only be saying what you already know. You are tactless. You deserved what you got, Malfoy."

"And just what the hell do I have to do to please you blasted women?" Malfoy cried, tearing at his hair. I almost smiled—he looked so inept, so unlike himself at the moment.

"Try a little something called subtlety," I advised. "I hear it works wonders."

* * *

Malfoy, it turned out, was not easily discouraged. By the next day, he already had a new plan forming in his dark little mind. Although he still did not have the concept of subtlety down pat, he seemed to be going for romance. I supposed that either one would work well. Girls enjoyed being wooed, didn't they? I was pretty sure that it was a universal fact.

"The only problem is, I don't know where to have it," he had asked after proposing a romantic candlelit dinner. The idea, coming from his insensitive skull, had surprised me. "Any ideas, Weasley?"

"The kitchens," I said naturally. Malfoy's nose crinkled in disgust.

"That smelly place? It's for house-elves and people like you. Not for Pansy and I." I decided to graciously ignore the degrading comment.

"It's perfect. And it's the only place available, really. If you ask kindly, the house-elves will gladly clear out an area just for you two, make it beautiful, _and_ they'll stay out of the way. In fact, I have an eerie suspicion that they'll want to kiss your feet for asking."

"But it's so…."

"Listen to me for once," I said exasperatedly. "Because for the first time in my life, I am trying to help you."

Malfoy wagged a finger at me.

"No, you're helping yourself by helping me," he said. "Don't think that I don't know the selfish nature of humans."

"Bit of a cynic, aren't you?" I said.

"No, just a realist." He flashed me a quick but cheeky smile. If he had seemed utterly morose only a day before, he was back to being nasty old self again. It was an enormous relief. If there was one thing worse than Draco Malfoy, it was a depressed Draco Malfoy. He must have been cheered by the assumption that everything would right itself again. Hell, I was cheered too.

We continued to discuss the finer details of the candlelit dinner there in the musty, old, unused classroom. We argued and (reluctantly) compromised and then argued some more. And fine—I admit that somewhere between the time that the idea first emerged and the last biting word we spoke to one another, I softly wished that someone would go at such lengths to plan such a fine dinner for me.

In truth, I wished that someone would go as far as fraternizing with the enemy, just to win me back.


	4. Charmed

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter.

* * *

Unhinged: Chapter 4

**

* * *

**

The dinner was planned meticulously. Then, it was tuned to perfection and I learned that Malfoy was a perfectionist. He saw something wrong with everything I did, naturally—my idea was too complex or on the other hand, too simple and mundane. Pansy didn't like shrimp, or she didn't like the color blue so I would have to get a different tablecloth. She could only be seated on the right side of the room, where it was furthest away from the kitchens. He was neurotic and nervous in a way that I thought was unfitting for him. Secretly, I laughed at the way his talking quickened and his hand motions became wilder with each passing moment.

"Are you absolutely sure that we'll have no disturbances?" He paused his rant on why porcelain plates were tacky to ask the same question for the millionth time.

"Damn it Malfoy, I told you."

"Fine," he said. "I'm going to go out on a limb and trust you."

"You have four hours," I told him.

"Four hours for what?

"The dinner," I said impatiently. "They can't spare the kitchens any more than four hours." Malfoy grew visibly disappointed at this.

"You are joking, aren't you? No? Four hours go by in the snap of a finger! I could be screwing her four an entire four hours, let alone dine and shag!"

"Your bluntness never fails to disgust," I muttered.

"My bluntness is not the point here," he reminded me.

"Better eat quickly, then," I said. "And while we're on the subject—please don't go in for a snog right after eating the garlic bread?" I reminded. Malfoy glared indignantly at me.

"Malfoys don't eat quickly. And they certainly don't have bad breath. Ever."

"Not even in the mornings?" I asked. His scowl lifted and he pondered this for a moment.

"Well," he answered after deep consideration. "Maybe in the mornings. Sometimes. But bloody hell, Weasley, even Malfoys aren't perfect."

* * *

Our suddenly brightened moods continued throughout the day. What could go wrong now? Now that we'd had a taste of absolute insanity, we came to long for and appreciate the normalcy we had been comfortably surrounded by before. Between both of us there was not a shadow of a doubt—Pansy would be fooled into believing he loved her. There was even the possibility of Draco loving her quite genuinely. Then there'd be no duping on our part, and we'd all feel much better about the matter. 

"I'm coming," I told Malfoy on our way to lunch that day. He seemed to be walking faster than usual.

"Coming where?" he asked distractedly. I knew he was scanning the hall for Pansy. She was seated next to Goyle at the Slytherin table.

"To the dinner, you love-struck ninny," I said. "I want to see the outcome of my handiwork."

"And let you intrude on what only has to do with Pansy and I?" Malfoy hissed at me, trying not to be heard by anyone else. "Never." He shrank away from the crowd of the incomers, hoping that know one would notice him talking to me.

"I'll disguise myself," I said. "Harry has an invisibility cloak—"

"Of course you'll disguise yourself. But it's still a no," Draco said, his gaze still fixed on the Slytherin table.

"I'm set on this one, Malfoy. No matter what you say," I said. Malfoy's eyes darted to me, back to Pansy, then back to me. He noticed my resolute stare, the one that was trademark of all Weasleys. His shoulders drooped slightly. It was a sure sign of compliance.

"Damn it all," he cursed. "Fine, you little voyeur. But don't bother Potter for his cloak. Borrow mine and save yourself the embarrassment of having to beg, not to mention having to explain why you'd need it."

"Why, how kind of you," I said dryly.

"Just don't be late, will you?" he scowled.

* * *

The setting was absolutely beautiful. Sure, it was a little bit cliché—but you tend to forget that you've seen this overly used candle-lit dinner scenes thousands of times in books and plays when you see the _real_ thing, shining right in front of your unworthy eyes. Pansy did not appear to be more than a little surprised, however. And she had the appetite of an elephant. The things you could learn about Slytherins in a mere few days. 

"Have you been starving yourself?" Draco asked with a frown. I'm sure that that was his idea of a conversation starter. Pansy's fork stopped moving momentarily. I cringed as that dangerous look crept back into her eyes. Draco, despite all the claims of his impeccable manners, was yet unaccustomed to the sensitivity of some girls' feelings. Almost seven years of knowing her and he was still the only one blind to the fact that Pansy was a very easy to offend sort of girl.

"Excuse me?"

"Well, you're eating like a pig," Draco said frankly.

"Are you calling me a pig? Would you rather have me dab daintily at my mouth with a napkin?" There was definitely a warning edge to her tone now.

"I'm sorry." Pansy shook her head, as if to shake herself out of a spell. "I know that's not what you meant." Draco didn't say anything but he kept from looking smug.

"It's delicious," she said, looking at him with a small smile. "This was a brilliant idea. Thanks."

"You're welcome. No big deal. We'll have them more often from now on."

"I don't think that'll be very often, then," Pansy said in a passing way. But Draco did not skim over what she had said. Instead, without a change in facial expression, he laid down his fork on the table.

"Right. Care to speak plainly, Pans? You know I hate it when we talk in riddles. Wastes time."

"We haven't been seeing much of each other lately."

"We've been busy."

"Busy with what?"

"With other people."

"Now who's the one speaking in riddles, Draco? Being busy with other people my arse. What you really mean is, we've been busy seeing other people." I saw Draco's jaw clench and I knew it then. For someone who so proudly advocated bluntness, he hated it. He hated being stung every time. He swallowed it every time.

"I haven't been seeing anyone, for the record," he snapped. "So speak for yourself."

Pansy smiled. "You know what? Now is not the time to talk about this."

"No," Draco said. "No, no, no. Now is perfect."

"Draco—"

"I love you," he spat. It was no romantic declaration. His voice was almost vicious, but that could have simply been his uncontrollable passion. "And if you were just a little bit wiser, you'd know it and you'd treasure it."

Pansy sat very still. It made me wonder if Draco's words had simply gone right past her. But they hadn't. When she spoke, it was not out of reverence.

"Really?" she asked. "Love me? That's precious." She leaned across the table, closer to the seething boy. "Tell me—have you loved me well, then?"

"Yes," Draco said as if the question was ridiculous. When seeing the unconvinced expression on his lady's face, he recanted his words.

"Well, maybe not all the time," he admitted. "No. No, I haven't been very good to you. But I promise I'll make it up. I swear on it."

"Don't be a bloody idiot," Pansy said. "And don't waste your words. You don't love me, just like I don't love you. We're seventeen years old. I fall in and out of love rather easily, and I fall out of love especially easily with a sleazy bastard like yourself. Do you want to know why I've stopped feeling anything for you?" Pansy's hard burning eyes never left his face. I knew that he was forcing himself to do it when he nodded yes.

"Because you're a charmer, Draco," Pansy said with a slight chuckle, the kind that is chilling. "You were born a charmer. You distract people long enough for them to realize that they are just useful _things_ to you. You're the type of person to calculate a person's worth in galleons. Now, in fear of being called a hypocrite—had we been in any other sort of relationship, I would have admired you for these traits. But as someone who I loved, and someone who supposedly loved me back? I don't care if you're the Son of God himself. You're not to treat me like shit."

Draco's face was now nearly unfathomable, but I knew he was feeling betrayal underneath his pale skin. The only thing that flickered in his eyes was the candlelight.

"I'm not tricking you, Pansy," he said calmly. "I'm not fooling anyone when I say that I love you."

"Maybe. Maybe I'm wrong. I don't care anymore. I'm not yours anymore."

"I don't understand you, Parkinson," he said, shaking his head. Draco stood up violently. My heart tumbled downwards, as did his chair.

"I don't understand you!" he bellowed, disbelief etched into every corner of his expressive face. "I never will! I have given you everything I can and still you reject me! What is _wrong _with you?" His plate clattered to the ground.

Pansy remained unmoved by his tantrum. She remained seated, too.

"In case you haven't noticed," she said without flinching. "I've been seeing someone else." Draco hissed at her admittance. It seemed to make everything ten times worse, her admitting that she was 'seeing' my brother. (Well, more than seeing, really.) The fact that she seemed to have no shame for it made it infinitely worse.

"I'm sorry you've wasted your night on me," she said and I think both of us could tell that the conversation was over. And yes—she was standing up too, looking Draco in the eye.

"I wasn't lying about what I said earlier. Dinner was delightful. But you've charmed me for the last time."

* * *

I expect that Pansy's outburst on him was a wake up call, really. And if it wasn't—at least it was one more person who thought him terrible. Maybe eventually, he would be convinced that he was an arsehole. On that night, he was a somber arsehole. 

Both of us were back to being desolate. Our perfect plan had turned out to be…imperfect. It was mind blowing, really. It was like when all the muggles thought they had built the first truly unsinkable ship—and then the stupid thing did sink after all, defying it's very purpose. You live your life thinking: No, Pansy Parkinson and Ronald Weasley would never ever fall in love. Now _there_ is an impossibility. There it is—something on such different sides of a defining line. Like parallel lines—they could never cross. We would all be dead before something like that happening. It is something you laugh at, not worry over as we'd been doing. This is why I'm convinced that sometimes, life is only about defiance.

"She's a hard one to break, isn't she?" Those were the very first words of a heartbroken Malfoy. I could tell he was trying to brush it off lightly, as if he knew for certain that she would come around quick enough, or that he simply did not care anymore. I felt pity for him. It was the first time I would see him vulnerable like this. I felt oddly out of place. Love for me had always been easy and natural and available. There was no fighting for it, no giving reasons. It was handed to me. How was it that this was so different, so jarred?

It was strange and comforting at the same time, seeing him on the verge of an emotional breakdown. Draco Malfoy, whom I had known to be someone that is as different from me as night is different from day, was sitting on the cold floor of the kitchens, woeful. We were both feeling and therefore, not so different.

"Maybe she's too hard," I said slowly. His head snapped up so quickly, I barely saw it move at all.

"What do you mean?"

"What are you going to do?" I cried. "Force her to love you? You've got to know your boundaries."

"Thank you for your concern, but I know them. I also know that I've been taught to never underestimate my own capabilities. The greatest shortcoming of a man's character is to lack in confidence. I refuse to stand idle while the very girl I want is off meandering with some no good Weasley." Malfoy said with gritted teeth.

"Just putting things in perspective," I replied tiredly. Too tired to even feel offended. I expected his customary snarl, but didn't receive one. Instead, he jumped up from his seat and began pacing the floor.

"By Gods," he shouted. "You're right. You're damn right. I'm wasting my time. I deserve better than her."

"I'm sure you do," I said.

"Well, it's settled then. No use wasting more time by thinking on it. If I'm done, I'm done," he said. "I suppose we won't be accomplices after all." He stood, breathing and thinking in silence. Then, his eyes grew clear again and he remembered me.

"Look. Just leave," he said. "I'm not in the best spirits tonight."

"Fine." I straightened up from my crouching position and turned towards the direction of the exit. "Goodnight to you, too."

I left him there to contemplate his life. I slowly walked out of the kitchens and wound my way back to the dorm. Although I had been realistic enough in getting him to call our deal off himself, I couldn't help but wish he had remained adamant in his need to sway Pansy's feelings for him. In a small way, I'd needed him to forever hope that we could control the lives and loves of two people. And though I was sure that Pansy would remain unconvinced of where her affections should lie, I couldn't kill that hope. Now we were only a group of four confused youths, wandering without aim through the corridors of our stone castle. It was worse than being lost. It was knowing where you were, but not knowing where you wanted to be.


	5. Two plus two equals five

**Disclaimer: **Credit for HP goes to JK Rowling and company.

**Notes:** This update is very late because I've been going through some very difficult times in life. Enjoy and review. There's kissing in this chapter. Hope it satisfies your hormones.

* * *

**Unhinged: Chapter 5**

* * *

Five days and nine hours later, his will power withered. Iron-minded he was not. It was just after breakfast and right before the first of the day's classes that he caught me. It was not exactly the perfect time for it, but it was his bony grip that caught my shoulder in the crowd of busy students nevertheless. 

"Weasley," he greeted me breathlessly. His jaw was set rigidly. It meant that he was not ready to give up on his pursuit. "I can't leave it alone."

My heart soared and fell at once.

* * *

I pulled a Ron and skived off from lunch to meet him—in the kitchens, again. It seemed to be the most private area during a time when everyone was happily eating in the Great Hall. The house-elves, upon order, took no heed of our presence. They were too busy slaving over our next meal to pay us any attention. 

"What is this really about?" I asked as I stumbled in through the portrait hole.

"Weren't you listening at the dinner?" he said. He tried to sound ferocious but failed miserably. Instead, he began to pace the floor. "I can't…I can't stop thinking any of it. Least of all her."

"She doesn't love you, Malfoy," I informed him bluntly. I had resigned to the fact that I could not do anything to hinder them. Either ambition was not something I had been given a lot of, or I had simply been given too much..._Gryffindor_. I found it extremely hard to be disloyal to my own sibling. And this could technically qualify as such.

"I don't need to be enlightened of that fact," Malfoy said sourly.

"Look—I don't like this any more than the next person. However, sometimes you have to realize the impossible. Deal with it."

"Don't patronize me!" Malfoy growled. He stopped pacing long enough to spin around and send me a staggering glare. "You wouldn't understand!"

I scoffed loudly. "What a classic line! You didn't tell me this was going to be a surprise pity party for you."

"I'm not bloody asking for a pity party," Malfoy spat venomously. "I'm asking why it is so difficult to right what is wrong. _Why_—" He stopped speaking. He looked disheartened, as if he was too tired to complete his angry sentence.

"None of it matters. I've changed my mind." In a flash, he was back to being a bossy arse.

"Malfoy—"

"Weasley."

"Malfoy," I repeated boldly, my voice rising above his. "I can't help you anymore."

"Why the hell not?" He still sounded enraged, but now there was also a note of apprehension. He didn't like operating alone.

"This has been disrupting my life." I hated how apologetic I sounded. "I need to focus on what matters again."

"This doesn't matter?"

"Draco, _get over it_!" I shouted. "You'll learn to love someone again. I hate this, but I can't drop everything else in my life for it. My brother will come to his senses in time. I have schoolwork that needs my attention. I have a life that needs my attention. Good-bye. Good luck." Then I left him there, alone.

* * *

"Ginny!" Shifting my book bag to my left shoulder, I turned around to face the one who called for my attention. It had been a few days since Malfoy and I had last spoken. I'd been quite positive it had been the last. 

"Colin," I said, genuinely surprised. The small boy hurried after me. I had not spoken with him since…well, since the day Ron had 'disappeared.' "How have you been?"

"Listen Gin, you're one of the best writers we have on the paper," Colin began without replying to my question. Flattered, I smiled and started to mutter a thank you before Colin cut me off with an impatient wave.

"We're doing an article on some of the longer-lasted couples for the Valentine's issue. Harry and Hermione, Malfoy and Parkinson, Hannah and Ernie just to name a few. My hands are a bit full right now with all I've got planned for this issue. You're available to take the Hannah and Ernie article, aren't you?"

"Right, right sure," I said, inwardly groaning. I figured I would slap something sappy together a week before the deadline. I hated talking about the infamous Valentine's issue. I wondered why I had ever agreed to write for the unofficial paper anyway. It had been unknown to me that it would resemble The Quibbler in the nature of the articles. Colin had quite an...active imagination.

"You're the greatest," Colin oozed before flashing me a grin. "To make your job even easier, I've drafted up a list of questions you could ask them." He looked away to fiddle around in his bag for the list.

"S'around here somewhere," he muttered distractedly. He cursed as the other books in his arms tumbled to the floor. A scatter of papers fell. I bent down to help him retrieve them, when I noticed a few moving photographs. Photographs I had never seen before. Photographs of Draco and Pansy, both looking snug in each other's embraces.

"New ones," Colin nodded at the pictures I held. "Found them getting rather lovey-dovey last night." A surge of shock and insuppressible hope beat through me.

"Nice," I said weakly. "Well, I've got to go, Colin. Nice talking to you!"

* * *

"How did you do it?" I whispered as discreetly as I could. Draco lifted his face towards me. 

"Do what?" he said obscurely.

"Ha. See? You're not allowed to do that. You're not allowed to pretend that I'm a stranger."

"If my memory isn't failing, I remember it as you that left me. I have no obligation to tell you anything."

"So it's over?"

"Yes." He was acting very brisk. "I don't know if you know, but Pansy is a very flighty girl. Flighty, but at the same time, sensible. I'm the only one who understands her. She's realized this." Malfoy gathered his books and made a point of leaving.

"I'm going now," he said. He looked at me strangely, as if he were searching for some sort of reaction on my part.

"See you," I replied stupidly. He shrugged and walked away. I sank low in the seat he had occupied only moments before. It was so strange. I was happy, but it was strange. Pansy had seemed so convinced of herself only a week ago. It was rather unnerving to think that people were allowed to change their minds so quickly. Hypocrisy ran more rampantly than I had thought. Scooting back the chair, I leaned it against the bookshelf behind me. That's when I noticed that Malfoy had left something. It was a small piece of parchment—a note of some sort. I didn't hesitate to unfold it.

_Pansy,_

_Someone knows. I'm sorry, but going public was never a part of the deal. I can't be with you any longer. Please don't talk to me again. I just want things to go back to normal. I want to right what is wrong—we were wrong. I'm sorry. I was stupid for starting this. I hope that the both of us will be able to forget this ordeal soon._

_Sincerely,_

_R.W.  
_

_

* * *

_

"Weasley, it's over. So why are you following me?"

"You wrote that note."

For a moment it seemed as if he was going to ignore me. He pushed his way through the dinner crowd. I attempted to follow him, but he had disappeared from sight. Until he grabbed me and pulled me under a small nook under the staircase.

"How do you know about that?"

"You carelessly left it at the library," I said. "And I know you wrote it. My brother's handwriting doesn't look like that."

"Yes, I suppose I should have written a little less legibly," Draco said. He was clearly amused by this. I was surprised to find that I was not.

"Did you honestly think it would work?"

"It has worked," he corrected me. "Why do you seem so…displeased? You filthy Weasleys can go back to being pathetic by yourselves, can't you? I've artfully remedied the situation. Stop bothering me."

"They'll find out. They'll wonder who did it. It'll end up worse for you," I warned.

"Kind of you to care, but I don't need your concern."

I bit my lip. "Fine. Have it your way. But don't come crawling to me when I turn out to be right. You are, as always, a tactless moron."

* * *

He did come crawling, however. He came squealing back. I shouldn't have received him. But he looked so pitiful, and I was feeling so triumphant at being right. 

"The idiot tried to talk to her," he said. The idiot he referred to was my brother. "The secret's out."

"Is Pansy as furious as I imagine her to be?" I asked smugly.

"No. Ten times that." Then, with a yell, he kicked a nearby wall.

"Don't be stupid," I said. His head was hung low. I couldn't tell if he was crying or not. Crying would have definitely been awkward.

"I can't help but be stupid," he said with a small chuckle. "At the risk of sounding like a sap, I'll say this--I am blinded by…this need to have her."

"Territorial, aren't you?" I was feeling particularly sarcastic, and not so sympathetic.

"Yes, in fact. But you've never been in love. That's why you don't understand."

"You're not in love," I said bluntly. "You're in lust, Malfoy. Don't kid yourself into thinking that you know a thing about true love. That sort of thing is too above dirty people like you."

He had an unreadable expression on his face. It was not angry. It was not humored. It was simply incomprehensible. He took a small step towards me.

"Maybe. But I'm willing to do anything to fulfill these 'territorial' needs. That's a little extreme for lust, isn't it?"

"Listen." His voice was suddenly loud and clear again. There was large distance between us again, and he looked impatient to get out of there. "I'm—I'm going to leave now. But I still have things to talk about with you. There's a Hogsmeade visit this weekend. Why don't you meet me near the boundaries of the Shrieking Shack at noon?"

"Alright," I said. I supposed this meant that I was indeed helping him again. It seemed as if Pansy was not the only flighty girl around here.

* * *

On Saturday, I went to Hogsmeade. I walked towards the Shrieking Shack as he had instructed. But something strange was going on. Malfoy smiled slickly as I approached him. 

"You look nice. Is that a new blouse?"

"No," I said. I felt discomfort.

"Right. Well, it looks new."

"Go on, Malfoy. I'm sure you have another brilliant plan up your sleeve. Hurry up and tell me so I can tell you if it's shit or not," I said impatiently. Secretly, I thought of what to order once I was done here and was allowed to grab a bite to eat. Perhaps I would stop by Honeydukes. It had been a long time. These idle thoughts didn't prepare me. Nothing could have prepared me.

"Well?" I asked a deathly silent Malfoy. Distracted, I peered in my bag to look for some lip balm. He answered.

"Ginny, look at me," he said quietly as his hands grabbed my face and pulled me into a kiss.


End file.
